Tales from the Ottoman House
by olin
Summary: A series featuring Egypt, Greece, Hungary, Bulgaria and of course, Turkey. Different POVs and genres, for each of them see that masked Ottoman Empire differently. Some TurkeyxHungary and TurkeyxGreece.
1. Egypt

**Egypt – The Silent Man and the Proud Man**

When Turkey last came to his house, that breezy little palace in the oasis, he was so much different. He was ambitious, fiery, a stir-about, always talking about his new empire, how the two of them would one day, with no doubt, rule the entire world.

Egypt found his company quite entertaining and amusing, and of course… Turkey reminded him of his father, Ancient Rome. They both had that powerful aura that made anyone and everyone submit before their will.

So why not play along, Gupta thought.

But now… _now_ he was different. For one thing, he did not come alone: he was accompanied by a young woman and a child; and what's more important, he was… well, practically glowing of pride and happiness.

'You seem different' Egypt noted quietly as he poured his guests some hibiscus tea. Turkey was sitting on the biggest and most comfortable pillow, with the young and delicate-looking woman on his left and the child at his feet. It was impossible not to notice the hatred in the little boy's eyes every time he looked at the older man; the woman, on the other hand sat the quietly, gazing either outside at the desert or stiffly fixing her gaze on a spot in front of her. It was just too obvious that both of them were brought here against their will.

'You betcha!' Turkey laughed heartily as he lifted his glass 'My empire shall conquer all, may they be in Asia or in Europe!'

'You have grown to be quite the optimist' Gupta answered, and one could not tell from his calm tone whether this was a compliment or criticism 'But with a son to follow you, I guess that is only natural.'

Turkey now laughed even harder.

'This pipsqueak here? No, no, no, Gupta ol' friend, this lil' toad isn't mine, what were you thinking!' then he quickly embraced the woman's waist with his free hand 'But we'll be on the job, right, _abla_?'

She made a face and hissed something in a language Egypt did not understand, but it was obviously the most awful curse ever to be spoken. Turkey only laughed in reply – he seemed to be in quite the mood – and said 'Then go you two, while the men do the talking. Shoo-shoo!'

She jumped up and took the boy in her arms, quickly running towards the door; both of them looked quite relieved when they left their master behind.

'You really love them, don't you?' Gupta said in his usual tone a few minutes later, refilling their glasses.

'Nah… the kid's a real pain, and you wouldn't believe how hard it is to get that tulip of mine to lie with me! And if they team up against me, oh Allah, then I sometimes just wanna throw both of them into the sea. Yeah, so they're really giving me a hard time…' he sighed, scratching his nape with his right hand.

'Then why did you look at them so affectionately when they left?'

Sadiq raised his eyebrows, then suddenly burst out in laughter once more, leaning towards Egypt and slapping him on the shoulder.

'Well, I guess you got me figured out, ol' friend!'

The other man pulled away with a smile, and raising his glass, said:

'I believe I like the way your family has changed you.'


	2. Greece

**Greece – When the hatred won't go away**

No matter how many times Heracles now looked back, he despised the time at the Ottoman House.

He was still a small, small child back then, with the innocence and naivety of an infant – he remembered, at first he thought he was punished. He thought the big masked man came and took him away because he had done something wrong and upset his mother. But once, years later, when he was still alone in one of the small castles where the scary man had brought him and only rarely came to visit, Heracles asked the masked uncle when he can go home already.

The way Turkey would laugh at him, that evil and annoying tone, Heracles could never ever again forget.

From that point, he started hating, utterly hating that disgusting man, whose face he hadn't even seen since he was brought here. He was loud, he was carefree, over-confident, scornful, and, in the small Greek's eyes, the devil himself.

For many, many years, the only thing the small child felt, was hatred and disgust, but… then _she_ came, and changed everything.

It was all so sudden: one day, that loathsome man came, and, without even dismounting his white horse, snatched Heracles and rode off with him. He screamed and flung around, trying to escape his tight grip, but he just smiled and said: 'You will make the best present, you little brat.'

The palace they went to was enormous and flamboyant, so much different than the little country castle where he had been living. And all the rooms Turkey rushed through with the child in his arms, every one a different color, and gold and marble and silk wherever Heracles turned his head – it made him all dizzy.

'I brought you a wonderful little thrush as a present my tulip, so you won't cry anymore' he then said, stepping into an inner chamber. The child spotted a woman standing before a window, and when she turned around, his little heart skipped a beat. Her eyes and cheeks were wet with tears, her two long brown bangs of hair framing her beautiful face – she was like an angel to him.

Without thinking, he reached out, and the woman took him into her arms. 'Don't cry' he whispered to her, grabbing one of her bangs; it felt like the finest silk 'Don't cry, please.'

***

After that, everything changed for Heracles. The young Elizaveta became the most important person for him; he'd have done anything to see her smile. He was always by her side, clinging to her caftan, and she'd pick her up and sing for him in a strange, but melodious language. They strolled together, played together, she told him stories and he listened with all the ave of a child.

Still, sometimes he had to go without her – sometimes she just kissed her on the forehead and went off with that awful Turk, and there were occasions when she only returned a few days later. Whenever this happened, Heracles was furious, he hit the furniture and tore the curtains, tried to escape from that sickening castle to go after her… But he was brought back every time, and was locked into a room all alone. Then he often cried and wished his mother were there.

Once, when he was somewhat older, he couldn't sleep and quietly tiptoed to Eliza's room. He walked to the bed and noticed only then that she was not alone: that bastard was sleeping with her, embracing her from backwards like she belonged to him! He remembered how his heart had sunk back then at the realization of their relationship. He wanted to go away and cry by himself, but Hungary slowly opened her eyes and muttered:

'Hera-chan, what's the matter? You can't sleep, sweetheart? Come here, you can sleep with us tonight' and already he felt her gentle arms around him, pulling him close. She was so warm and smelled so nice… he just lay there for a long time, unable to sleep.

'Hmmm… he couldn't sleep by himself, huh?' he heard Turkey's groan and felt his strong hand on his shoulder. He tried no to jump away in disgust, but it was really hard.

'Let him be' Hungary muttered back gently 'It feels so good like this, with the two of you.'

'Like a family, huh?'

Hungary's arms tightened around Greece and she sighed, but Turkey quietly continued:

'We could stay like this… you, me, and the brat… I could even start liking him, I guess…'

Heracles felt something wet dripping on his face and realized she was crying. She breathed a feeble 'No', and there was no more talking – but he could feel Turkey embracing both of them tightly, and it felt disturbingly… strange.

***

'No, Heracles. I'm sorry.'

This she said many years later, when Greece was fighting for his independence. It was a long time since she left the Ottoman House and, though he never spoke about it, he missed her deeply. For him, she was still like a second mother, and the memory of all her kindness made it easier for him to live with Turkey up till now.

As he now saw her, his heart skipped a beat once more. She was now different, mature, elegant, and living with the noble Austria – but for him, she was still she same wonderful angel.

But now this angel turned out to be the cruelest he had ever met.

'No' as she said the word, she seemed so cold, so distant. He had only wanted some support from her, her approval, her smile…

'I thought you would be happy' he mumbled in his deep tone, staring at her unbelievingly. She would not look at him.

'I can't support you' she said again, turning away 'I'm so sorry, Hera-chan.'

'Why not…?'

She didn't turn around, and he already knew.

No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that bastard would always rob her from him. And that's why he now hated his stay at the Ottoman House even more.


	3. Bulgaria

**Bulgaria – Rose oil scented confusion**

'Wonderful job again, friend' Turkey used to say whenever he came for all the rose oil Bulgaria has made.

'Just go already' the other man mumbled turning away, another huge basket full of roses in his hands, wearing plain clothes like usual when he was harvesting all those roses – but he came to a stop as he felt Turkey embracing his shoulders from behind.

'Haha, don't be so cold to me, friend' he gently said, just too close to his ears 'I couldn't bare the thought of you being mad at me' and in his tone, there was that hated playfulness. _Of course you could_ – Bulgaria thought annoyed and his grip tightened on the basket – _Like you care about anybody else's feelings…_

'I'm not your friend' he said bluntly, pushing aside Sadiq's arm 'Let me get back to work.'

'Why, you are my _only _and _most _precious friend, Bulgaria' he heard Turkey say, and rolled his eyes with annoyance in reply.

'If I'm really your friend… why can't I live with you in your house, like the others do?'

It was too late to take it back now – Bulgaria himself was horrified that he actually said his deepest concern out loud. But he had to know.

What was he to him? A friend, an ally, a brother, or… just a _thing_ he could use as he pleased?

'I… actually… _would_ consider letting you live in my house, but you see, I'm too afraid I'd get used to this wonderful scent!' and Turkey laughed, patting the other man on the back, who left him without a word.

_How pathetic a man he is,_ Bulgaria thought, _and how unfortunate that I am even more pathetic._


	4. Hungary

**Hungary – Stages of Womanhood**

He changed her so much – but she was not sure whether to hate or love him for this.

First of all, he was one of the few who could make her cry. When 1526 came, somehow everything collapsed in a few short years' time. Maybe the last straw was when that bastard Turkey had come for her, kissed her unexpectedly, and called her the most beautiful woman on earth. Ever since, she regretted not chopping his stupid head off on the spot for his disgusting insolence, but instead – she started crying.

She didn't _want_ to be a woman. Women are weak, women need to be protected, women can't fight – that's what his grandfather had taught her. But she, the headstrong child she was, denied her own womanhood, because she didn't want to be protected.

He brought her to his house, gave her an immense amount of beautiful clothing and jewelry, and didn't let a day pass by telling her how wonderful she was. But Eliza felt awkward staring into the mirror wearing all that Turkish finery: it felt like a different girl was looking back at her. She refused being a woman.

The other thing she really hated was that tingle in her body. He'd want her to bathe with him every cursed time, and his muscular and kind of robust physique, his dark skin-tone, many scars and slight hairiness were more than disturbing. She warded off all his sweet comments with a cold 'I hate you' and moved away, trying to overcome that strangely warm feeling in her loins. She hated being a woman when he was around.

And when Turkey took her one night, at first it was for her like a different person's arms were embracing him. But then she heard herself moan 'More… deeper, please…' and couldn't stop, couldn't resist. She knew she had to come to terms with that girl in the mirror, because she realized how wonderful it felt to be a woman.

Slowly, she started liking wearing skirts and dresses. She liked picking flowers and babysitting little Greece, just as much as she liked having horse-races with Sadiq and laughing at his loss. She was a woman, a lover, and a mother all in one. It felt like the most amazing thing in the world.

And in the centuries after, she fulfilled many other roles: she was a warrior, a wife, a comrade, an ally, a traitor, an always losing, yet still proud fighter for freedom.

But… even in her moments of glory, when she heard about Turkey's greatest loss, she went to him, comforted him, cried with him. She couldn't let go, her heart would not let that happen – for he had made her a woman, who was finally proud of her womanhood.

Yes, maybe that's why she hated him so much that her heart ached in the sweetest way.


	5. Turkey

**Turkey – Too many faces**

'Papa, papa, wake up' the toddler demanded as he managed to climb up the huge bed and moved towards his sleeping father. When the small boy, who had olive brown skin and wonderful golden eyes, reached him, he shook the elder man's shoulder, pushing his little face close to his father's.

'Please spare me' he groaned, not even having enough strength to open his eyes and turned to his other side. He had just arrived here, at one of the most beautiful little castles along the shore of the Sea of Marmara, and was dead tired. But even riding till he dropped was worth when it was about seeing his son – especially since he was away for some months now. The sultan himself ordered Sadiq to monitor whether the status quo is honored by the Austrians on the Western border of the Empire. It was a tiring and detestable duty, but one he had to do, nonetheless. And once he was there, he, of course, had to honor the pasha of Budapest with a visit. And enjoy the new bath – and the harem they prepared especially for him. He was so tired of it all, especially since all the women were glaring at him with utter fear in their eyes.

'Go and play tag or something, just make some noise. And if you dare tell the pasha that I didn't take even one of you, I'll chop off your stupid little heads personally' he'd hiss at them and they obediently did as he told them to, though that was the least playful game of tag the girls ever played.

He watched them resigned, and couldn't help thinking how Hungary's daughters didn't even look like her. She was so different than these… these wenches. True, they were beautiful, but behind that beauty was nothing. No pride, no recklessness, no sweetness, just… fear.

And then, when on the last day the pasha asked him to give his blessings on his newborn son, Sadiq had enough of this stupid task and only wanted to see his own child again.

Now he reached out and, embracing his little prince, pulled him close and kissed his head.

'Have you been a good boy?' he asked, still sleepy.

'Yes _baba_' the child replied smiling and snuggled close to his father.

'Good then' Sadiq groaned before falling asleep again.

But he had to leave just too soon; he needed to report back to the sultan and at times like these, his private life was second to his official duty. As he got on his white horse – beside the sultan, only he was allowed to have one -, he saw his son reaching up to him. He put his hand on the youngster's head and said smiling: 'The next time I come, I want to see you ride this horse, Erkin.'

'Yes, father!' the little boy's face was almost glowing with happiness – this just made it harder to leave him behind.

***

'How've ya been, you stupid brat?' he asked loudly as he opened the doors. Before going to the capital, he decided to visit this other brat as well, since his annoyance was highly amusing.

Heracles glanced at the masked man, then, ignoring him, continued staring out the window.

'Oi, ya gone mute or sumthin?' he slapped him on the back. Heracles bit his lower lip but didn't respond. He mustn't give in to his provocations. Disgust filled his soul and he wanted to spit at the older man.

Turkey took a closer look at the young man and was pleased with the sight. He was still young and fresh, and had a tender skin and a beautiful face much like a woman's. And those arms and fingers… he knew deep down that this wasn't the way he should feel about the brat, but damn it, he turned him on, there was no helping it.

He crouched down beside Heracles and slowly slid down the white robe he was wearing so his white shoulder was revealed. The young man's eyes flashed at him, in them there was surprise and shock, but Turkey leant close and pushed him against the wall.

'Missed me, Heracles?' he asked in a deep, aroused voice 'You sure did mature into something… _extraordinary_… I'd never thought…' here he bit into his neck and the young Greek hissed from the pain '… you'd make me feel this way' Sadiq breathed a few seconds later.

'Get off, you disgusting rat' the boy panted and tried to push him away with all his might but Turkey grabbed his arm and twisted it hard.

'You are MINE' he whispered to his ear 'I'll make you remember that _forever_.'

***

It was already late at night when he arrived at the sultan's palace. Sadiq knew that his highness wouldn't be in the mood to talk to him in the middle of the night, so he headed towards his own quarters. He was tired from the journey and from all that sex he had with that young brat. It was incredibly exciting to once more have somebody whom he had to force to obey him – it gave him shivers of excitement. This was the most wonderful thing for him: to _conquer_. Land or person, it didn't really matter. Though the thrill was more physical in bed than on the battlefield, he thought smiling.

He opened the door but stopped from surprise: Hungary was sleeping on a bunch of pillows by the window, and around her there were numerous plates with the best food the cooks could offer. Apparently she had been waiting for him all this time… he felt something a bit like shame and regret, and stepped to the woman. She was sleeping peacefully like a _huri_ who has lost her way from paradise and ended up here, in his room.

Sadiq gently took her in his arms and went to his huge bed with her. The second he put her down she slowly opened her eyes and silently set her gaze on him.

'I'm sorry for making you wait, Tulip' he whispered as he took off his turban and caftan and put them on a chair beside the bed.

'They said you would be home earlier' she muttered quietly and a bit offended.

'I'm sorry' he repeated, taking off his mask, and laying down beside her. Eliza let out a pleased smile as she looked into his green eyes.

'Are you g-gonna… have me?' she asked with a slight blush. Turkey sighed with a smile: this angel was already his, there was no need for further conquest. But this realization made him kind of sad too. Will he always be like this? Always thriving for more, and maybe loosing interest in the things he had already attained…? The thought of this his pointless existence always troubled him, and from time to time, it just overflowed in him – like now.

He placed a quick kiss on her lips, saying: 'I'm a bit tired for that. Maybe in the morning-'

'It's okay if you don't want to tell what's wrong' she interrupted, embracing him so that his face pushed against her warm and soft breasts 'Sleep now. I… missed you, _édesem._'

He inhaled her sweet scent and embraced her back; her closeness made his mind go blank and all his worries disappeared for at least a little time. Before falling asleep he pondered how women could do that. How were they able to know when a man needed them and their sweet comfort the most…?

He didn't find the answer, but at least he found some peace for a short time.


End file.
